I never let Amazon send me notifications in the first place, or indeed any other on-line retailer, and I routinely — and frequently — unsubscribe myself from their email distribution lists. I can’t stand the constant nagging, which I find almost as infuriating as the advertising on commercial radio and network television. If I could find a way to turn off advertising on Facebook, even at a price, I’d do it.

Perhaps the biggest reason for my persistent decluttering efforts is the feeling of oppression, bordering on fear, that hits me whenever I think about what I must do when I can’t manage this house any more. When Edmund was alive, I could count on him to take on more than his share of planning and executing any major project, and I believed that I would never have to move again. What a fool I was!

That line about the Tea Party’s ideal government — “so small you could drown it in a bath-tub” — aptly describes the house move task I want to face when the time comes. So the decluttering will continue.